#if you suffered you suffered and there's no glory from suffering | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lasaudade · 7 hours

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𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘, 𝖺 '𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌' 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼. (𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗎𝖾)

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : Suffering several losses and ongoing, world-renowned tennis champion, Art Donaldson, is beginning to lose hope. After unexpectedly crossing paths with a familiar-looking journalist, Art realizes there could be more at stake than just his career. Will he leave the world he knew behind, or give the game one more shot?

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : art donaldson x (f) sports journalist!reader.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : (𝟷𝟾+), second chance romance, angst, fluff, slow-burn.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 444.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝/𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : none.

𖥻 ۫ ׅ ˚ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : Hi, and welcome to my first fanfiction in 10 years! I've written this prologue for now as I write future chapters during my free time. I hope you guys enjoy this story, and I hope Challengers continues to receive the bountiful amounts of love it has been since its release.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ . . .

“I don’t want to do this. I can’t.”

“Should’ve decided that before you became a world championship player.”

The shuddering breath that leaves his nostrils narrowly frees the anxiety coursing through his veins like a racetrack, the dizzying walk down a familiar feeling corridor more nauseating than the last. Art practiced, hard, and to see that it was all for nothing felt like a slap to the face, a rude awakening for a man who had been yearning for the younger version of himself; fresh-faced and ready to take on Stanford— then, the world. What a fucking joke.

He winces instantly as the conference room doors yawn open, dazzling flashes from the multitude of various press outlets waving their cameras in his face, the flurry begging for him to answer trampled questions over the next. He can’t imagine how exhausted he must look, drenched in sweat.

The anticipatory looks of reporters and bloggers, ready to barrage him with inquiries of his ongoing defeats, his future plans to ensure a win: He hated it. He wanted nothing more but to retreat to his hotel room in peace and quiet to reflect on what he could have done better, what he did so wrong. With every step toward the press table, his footing grew heavier than the last, that awful sensation in the pit of his stomach settling, worsening once he sat down.

A mic is placed on him by an assistant, and a reporter emerges amid the sea of people that grow calm. His blue, tired eyes meet theirs.

“Mr. Donaldson.”

“Hi.”

The reporter clears their throat. “I... can only assume this wasn't the result you'd be hoping for— none of us had. I mean, months and months of agonizingly hard training regimens and diets to stick to... I can't fathom how disappointed you must be feeling right now,”

A long pause.

“…Why don’t we just start with something simple: What exactly happened out there, today?”

Amongst the quiet whispers and shutter clicks that flash from cameras that stun him, Art Donaldson, the acclaimed savior of tennis is utterly silent; frozen.

“... Art?”

“...”

He doesn’t utter a word, he doesn't have any to explain why he continued to be a disappointment to not only himself, but to everyone around him. His trainers, his media team, his fans... himself. The deafening loud ringing in his ears finally falls silent when his wings are clipped and he falls back down to earth. Despite it all, the waves of anguish, the disappointment, the embarrassment he feels for those around him... he smiles, glassy-eyed and defeated for the tabloids to see in all his pitiful glory.

“What happened?”

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #art donaldson imagine #challengers fanfic #challengers fanfiction #actually super anxious to drop this but the post button is here so..#time to close my eyes and hope for the best <3 #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS AAAA ive always been a bit ick about my writing but #anything for mike faist and anything for art donaldson <3 #cheers :0)

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asimplearchivist · 2 days

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𝓒𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓲𝓬 𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓷

𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐨𝐟 𝐗𝐗𝐕

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ khonshu forgot when he last hadn't felt pain. you make it easier to bear. pairing(s) ☽ khonshu/reader | promises kept!verse word count ☾ 1.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ my eighth entry for the moon knight bingo hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch over at @moonknight-events. I will eventually crosspost this to the main fic for promises kept on ao3 when it will best fit the chronological progression of the chapters. ⤏ got a little feelsy with this one. khonshu being so stubborn makes promises kept a glacial slow burn, but sometimes I just want to write him soft. I caved here. ☽ MASTERPOST ☾ ☾ PREVIOUS ENTRY ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT ENTRY [TBA] ☽

Some days were harder than others.

Khonshu had long since grown accustomed to his present state—malnourished, most definitely, and somewhat inhibited by old wounds on top of it—but the length of time under which he’d had no choice but to suffer did not make the affair any easier with which to deal. The constant nagging ache deep in the core of his wellspring—what he could only suspect was the closest equivalent to hunger in mortals, as he didn’t quite experience the same sensations—was an ignorable, background sensation at this point. Any bit of a boon he was granted by his few remaining followers soothed the worst of that acute, piercing emptiness, but given the fact that his avatars required continual support via the maintenance of the magical integrity of his ceremonial armor, oftentimes the energy would instead be passed right along to them instead of being kept for himself.

Such was the explanation behind Khonshu’s ghastly appearance—how could he sustain his physical manifestations when the continuation of his duties sapped what little energy he had from his own shallow wellspring to start with?

He never spent very much time taking in his own visage, whether it be in reflections provided by glass or by water. Even still, however—after over two thousand years of being trapped in the unrelentingly vicious reality of scrounging around for any scraps of divine energy he could come across for the sake of alleviating the hollowness resounding within himself—he would catch himself expecting to see glimpses of his old silhouette in his periphery, but was always met with the skeletal remains of the glory long ripped from him by his fellow deities.

He tried not to dwell on it too much, and it usually never came up naturally—most of his avatars through time assumed, given their ignorance towards the culture from which he’d originated and had nurtured, that it was how he had always appeared. Languishing in the negative feelings and memories that particular line of thought always drudged back to the surface only debilitated him. Righteous anger was easier to deal with than the repressed wounds still weeping from betrayal and despair. Those feelings never went away, really, given that his ‘hunger’ was a near-constant reminder of that single life-altering event over two millennia prior, but…most of the time he was able to shove them to the back of his mind.

You certainly helped him to do so.

An inexplicable balm to his soul, Khonshu found relief and refuge in the unshakeable lee you formed against the rest of the mortal world entombing him. Your steadfast dedication and devotion fed him, little by little, just enough to ease the ache. Perhaps it was irrational to rely upon that mutual symbiosis, a feedback loop doomed to fail eventually, since he was forced to channel that energy right back into the armor to keep you from harm, but he’d be damned with assurity if he was forced to forfeit you now.

You, mercifully, didn’t comment upon the…unfettered touchiness…that he displayed when the weariness that always followed a night out executing his justice superceded his finer mental factulties.

Your bed was much too small to fit the both of you comfortably, but you’d insisted that it would work if you sat up against the headboard and he pulled his legs up onto the mattress. Your fingers were light against the sweep of his shoulder, tracing the stark line of wiry muscle that conjoined at the scapulae. You’d already explored much of his back this way, reading the topography of him with your palm. Your other hand rested upon the curve of his head, thumb rubbing small circles that metronomed your steady, slow breaths and your occasional quiet humming.

He should have felt foolish, contorted not unlike a child with his head resting on your lap. Throughout the lengthy span of his life, he’d never stooped so low to demean himself in such a manner. The rest of the Ennead would make him the laughing stock of all pantheons if they knew of his particular…weakness for you. Although the Grecians often intermingled with man, the Ennead had long since forbidden it…but he couldn’t help but wonder. If it was so wrong, why did it make him feel the way that it did?

Even still, it would not be a good thing for them to discover. He didn’t fear himself much anymore, but if anything ever happened to you or Badru…

“You okay?” you asked softly, smoothing your hand up between his shoulders to cup the nape of his neck, rousing him from the light, dozing trance into which you’d unwittingly induced him. “You went all stiff on me.”

Khonshu grumbled. I am fine.

You let out a noncommital, if skeptical, sound and shifted a little to press the heels of both your hands into the meat of his shoulders. He winced as you dug in, working some of the tension free from his physical form. “Just got you relaxed and then you went and started overthinking again,” you tutted. “What goes on in that big noggin of yours, I wonder?”

Nothing good, he mumbled.

“I already knew that much,” you huffed. You found a particularly sore place below his scapula and his fingers knotted into the material of your t-shirt tighter as he smothered a grunt. “You’re just as bad as I am.”

You couldn’t fathom the heaviness of all that weighs on my mind, he pointed out sourly.

“Mmhmm.” You leaned forward and reached down to press at the base of his spine. His hiss was muffled by your thigh. “And you fuss at me for not keeping the armor as long as I need it,” you sighed. “Why don’t you use your abilities on yourself, too?”

Because he would bear it if it meant harm wouldn’t befall you. Because he would starve himself until he withered to dust if you had another chance to retain the breath in your lungs. Because you could bleed him dry and he would give you the knife with which to tap the celestiality that coursed through his arteries.

Heliopolitan maladies differ from that of humanity’s, he said instead.

“That seems a little counterintuitive,” you remarked, dragging up his sides to rid his ribs of their tension.

I require a greater expenditure of energy due to the nature of my body being primarily incorporeal and thus sustained only on my magic. It is much easier to heal tangible tissue. Khonshu tilted his head to peer up at your face, creased with determination and focused on the length of his back sprawling away from you. The material of your duvet was soft and warm against the bare skin of his torso, a balm against the perpetual chill that clung to his bones. The natural, thriving heat that emanated from your body certainly helped. What I consume is sufficient.

You frowned, eyes traveling over the gaunt press of his skeleton against his ashen, tawny flesh, barely hidden by the leanness of what muscle he’d retained in this form. “Somehow I doubt that.”

It was enough to sustain him and little else, but you didn’t need to know that.

You are fretting over nothing. Although that is nothing new, he jibed, hoping to redirect you.

He could sense your dubiety, but you thankfully dropped the subject. “...Do you sleep?”

Rarely. Allowing himself to slip into dormancy in his present state for any considerable length of time was a dangerous game he only dared to play when his wellspring was at its lowest tolerable level. He had also always preferred to remain vigilant in order to watch over the earth for any outstanding threats that may crop up on the misfortune-prone planet. Now that he had you and Ru under his protection, he especially resisted the urge that tugged at him at his weakest points. But I am capable of it, if that is what you mean.

“I had wondered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your guard down.”

There were reasons for that, too, ones that he’d prefer that you never learned.

I must never set down my creed for even a moment, he said, else the world fall to shambles in my absence.

“That’s called catastrophizing, in my realm of expertise,” you pointed out gently, forfeiting your inspection of his throbbing (but less achey) back and instead scratching your fingernails feather-light over his scalp. Frissons broke out over his skin and skittered down the length of his spine. “Thinking about worst case scenarios doesn’t give you any more control over what could or will happen. Plus, I think we’ve got a sufficient number of guardians all over the world to help give you a break.”

You are aware that those merchandised puppets are not even aware of the realm in which I dwell and deal, aren’t you?

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard stories about sorcerers or something, but that’s besides the point. You need to let yourself rest occasionally. I don’t even want to imagine what several thousands of years’ worth of burnout looks like.”

You were looking directly at it, frankly. Khonshu readjusted his arms to wrap around your back, hands overlapping your waist as he buried his face into the crease of your thighs once more. I am resting.

You went silent at that, movements stilling for a long moment. Then you shifted, hunched over him, and placed a chaste, lingering kiss on the crown of his head. “Well, then I’ll leave you alone.” You returned to your position against the headboard, pillows cushioning your back, and resumed your soothing touches along his scalp, neck, and shoulders. “...If you wanted to sleep, I can stay up for you for a while. If the world starts ending, I’ll be sure to wake you up.”

It was far more tempting an offer than Khonshu could resist, given your attentiveness had coaxed that old exhaustion to the surface like the tide. He wondered if you possessed any supernatural abilities of your own, or if it was because that was the same tone his mother had always used to convince him to sleep when he was young. You wouldn’t know if there was a disturbance in the astral plane if it struck you by the back of your head, he murmured, sagging into you steadily.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you returned quietly, thumb tracing the impression of a scar along his temple. “Just let me take care of you, Khonshu.”

He was trying his best, truly. It was certainly difficult to protest such a precious gift offered with no malicious intents underlying its tender promises.

#fisara's codices #fanfiction #moon knight #moonknightevents #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #khonshu #reader insert #khonshu/reader #khonshu x reader #khonshu/you #khonshu x you #khonshu fanfiction #khonshu fluff

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adamworu · 6 months

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Been wanting to do a 2nd rewatch of Evangelion. But I'm reluctant to in the same way I'm reluctant to watch Bojack Horseman again. It's not just the mule-kick of generational trauma but the one-two punch of people getting away with proverbial murder. The lack of closure. I know it gets better in the end, but it still hurts.

#all your base are belong to kaworu #also the quote about 'no such thing as good damage' is right and it's sobering #if you suffered you suffered and there's no glory from suffering #also my wounds kind of reopened from one of my last jobs where i had a verbally abusive bullying boss #i'm not over it and i don't feel as if i can feel like i'm still not over it #ughgh i feel gross it's probably just the doubt talking again #abuse mention

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uncanny-tranny · 8 months

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There's this pull in recovery to feel behind in comparison to your peer group, and that's, of course, a valid feeling. It's understandable, but I think a lot of what we don't remember is that... they often aren't starting out in the same place you are.

I think part of the reason so many feel terrible about "being behind" is that it feels like we have to blame ourselves for being behind. If you just weren't affected by it, you'd be right where your peers are, right? It's a way to blame yourself in severe cases.

Recovery isn't about "catching up," I think. It's about pressing the play button and letting yourself live. You might never "catch up," you might never be at the "same level," but that fundamentally doesn't change that your life is worth living how you want it to.

#mental health #recovery #i always conceptualize it in a metaphor of planets...#...because it feels like my own has stopped completely and everything in it has withered away...#...i don't think people think 'time has stopped but the world is moving on without me' as profound until you experience it...#...because i'll look at other people and what their metaphorical planets look like and i just... find it heartbreaking if i let it...#...and i think the comparison in recovery can easily be a way for you to weaponize your own suffering against yourself...#...because it DOES feel good and it feels productive to be the punished and the punisher...#...and that shields you away from recognizing that it's almost literally the opposite of freeing or productive #to me it's akin to the viewpoint that suffering is divine and is a Test Of Mettle #that if you only suffer until the day you die you will Be Rewarded...#...but i find that there is no glory in a war waged against yourself...#...that the battlefield is coated only in your blood is not a testament to you Deserving a Good Life...#...you already deserve a good life regardless of what war you are fighting. and that's hard to swallow...#...because then it feels like your suffering to prove yourself was POINTLESS...#...and you have to swallow the fact that you suffered and you didn't 'have' to #i just want people to start to internalize these ideas or even just think about it in context of themselves #i don't *want* you to suffer for your recovery (though this is a pretty impossible task regardless ime)

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hussyknee · 4 months

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"We don't hate Jews and fight them because they are Jews. Jews are people of a religion, and we are people of a religion. We love all people of different religions. My brother even if he is my brother and he is a Muslim—if he steals my house and kicks me out, I will resist him."

— Sheikh Ahmed Ismail Hassan Yassin, founder of Hamas.

#yes the 1988 charter is very fundie islamic and uses an antisemitic hadith. it has been changed #but you cannot possibly treat antisemitism as something separate from the geo-political character of the situation #hate as a reaction to oppression vs hate as a reaction to paranoia. one is human the other is always a deflection from the legitimate threat #there's really no point asking colonizers to feel the suffering of the colonized #or to treat them as human beings who wouldn't make these choices if anything else had ever worked #none of the people criticising armed revolt and suicide attacks consider how intolerable the occupation must be to prefer death #how armed rebellion is the choice made between dying a victim and dying a fighter #i am literally the last person to advocate for armed rebellion until and unless every other option is exhausted #the same value for human life that makes violence the last resort must embrace violence when it is the last resort #decolonization #free palestine #hamas #glory to the resistance #knee of huss

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nutzo0001 · 10 days

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what grinds my gears, and happen so very often:

short post, and just for my blog (here just to have place to input it in)

0/27, 17/04/24 Random thoughts

many intenrnet posts about "how people love..." to be awake at 1-5am, "just to be in..." dark and silence, alone, with their thoughts - when one person pinpoints it, it is romantic for a while. but then, it starts to (get popular,) feel sacharine and there are copycats andcomments to it. makes one wonder ?how so?"

...

what to do? it feels like the best era already happened, and we live in the last era - last juice of past glory - pastiche of it. '97-'15 peak (/before big-media...). after that, culture and society went to era of "meta-criticism", being critical about why [it] is so critical... - gives me the same "vibes" as if... your dreams came true, - but then , as if - you start to feel guilty, lied to (sorts of "suffering from success"), weird ("and now what!") - similar to about any [post-revolution] (brainfog) zeitgeist - you got what you want(ed), - but how to assure this wont repeat, that [*this*] will not be took for granted (...), forgotten, and bagatelized - (new-)normalized, - simplified, and >> used in (some, pol.) future campaign , and or used in some form of (pol., soc.) coercion?!! - - just *another* status quo, "without" history!

(they npcs accept unacceptable)

#what grinds my gears #and happen so very often:#short post #and just for my blog (here just to have place to input it in)#0/27 #17/04/24 Random thoughts #many intenrnet posts about “how people love...” to be awake at 1-5am #“just to be in...” dark and silence #alone #with their thoughts - when one person pinpoints it #it is romantic for a while. but then #it starts to (get popular #) feel sacharine and there are copycats andcomments to it. makes one wonder ?how so?"#...#what to do? it feels like the best era already happened #and we live in the last era - last juice of past glory - pastiche of it. '97-'15 peak (/before big-media...). after that #culture and society went to era of “meta-criticism”#being critical about why [it] is so critical... - gives me the same “vibes” as if... your dreams came true #- but then #as if - you start to feel guilty #lied to (sorts of “suffering from success”)#weird (“and now what!”) - similar to about any [post-revolution] (brainfog) zeitgeist -#you got what you want(ed)#- but how to assure this wont repeat #that [*this*] will not be took for granted (...)#forgotten #and bagatelized - (new-)normalized #- simplified #and >> used in (some #pol.) future campaign

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eezordalf-the-ardent · 8 months

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potion of mental fortitude

for the use of: dispelling The Horrors (brain type)

- tongue of kingsnake (any subspecies will do)

- three (3) (tres) petals of morning glory

- cinnamon sticks. no less than six (6) (seis), no more than twenty (20) (veinte)

- 8 (8) (ocho) ounces peach skin

- one (1) (uno) easter reece's candy (the kind shaped like an egg)

- five (5) (cinco) whiskers of kitty cat

- a riddle, whispered to the brew in the final three (3) (tres) minutes of boiling

a medium sized cauldron will do just fine. start with a base of one (1) (uno) liter water and one (1) (uno) liter of goat's milk. bring to a boil and add ingredients in the order listed. simmer for ten (10) (diez) minutes. while waiting you must gently sway and hum in a good-natured manner.

#eezordalf's wisdom #wizardblr #please do enjoy this recipe :) i know many these days suffer greatly from horrors of the brain #do let me know if you run into any issues #wizardposting #potions #morning glory

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frozenambiguity · 1 year

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Literally the first song in that playlist:

I can hear the sound of a heartbeat before it goes out Won't ever leave my memory of bloodshed all around And I can see a tear on my father's face before it falls out Oh, my enemy, how could I have ever let you down? Oh When all these trees saw us grow Cut our teeth and make our bones right here We'd play with shields made of stone Share our dreams and sit our thrones Be still, 'cause I see smoke up ahead and I got steel in my hands We will return like warriors, I swear, that we'll find glory up ahead Tell me: Where is my home? I don't recognize the faces anymore, no Where is my friend? The one I've known since I was only just a kid

#{{ one sec i'm talking abt tiddies the other i'm thinking abt the war in khaenri'ah and all the pain and trauma he got from that }}#{{ hi; it's my brand. }}#{{ khaenri'ah is always on my mind. all the suffering and curses. all the screaming and panic they went through in that particular night }}#{{ please the 'where is my home?' line??? and the ' I don't recognize the faces anymore'???? aka the people from khaenri'ah who were }}#{{ cursed and????? even reject their own image }}#{{ and 'where is my friend? The one I've known since I was only just a kid' line DIRECTLY CALLING OUT DILUC for leaving him for years }}#{{ come back Diluc; he wants the past back. he wants their old relationship back. cuz he only had you from the beginning }}#{{ and don't even get me started on his father. his father crying??? kaeya feeling like he disappointed him?? }}#{{ and his dad alerting him to be careful; because there is still a fight to be fought??? ' i got steel in my hands' }}#{{ 'we will return like warriors I swear; we'll find glory up ahead' as they rejoin forces and have kaeya spy for khaenri'ah }}#{{ as another war brews in the distance. One which Kaeya will have to pick a side to stand on }}#{{.... im gonna be having a brainrot abt this song for the rest of the night }}

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akkivee · 1 year

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so the imagery on kuukou’s nb sukajan!!!!!!

these lotus mandalas of course represent enlightenment, but in this specific instance, i believe they are in reference to the the ‘mandalas of the two realms.’ these realms, the diamond and womb realms, come together to basically teach wisdom and and the principles of buddhism. within these realms reside deities and the sanskrit in the mandalas represents a deity in those realms!!!!!

the character that looks like a ‘b’ represents ‘kujaku myoo’ a female wisdom king residing in the diamond realm!!! she is associated with the peacock, which eats insects (like we’ve seen kuukou do in arb lol) so she’s worshipped for removing suffering and misfortunes from others. the other character represents the deity ‘dakiniten,’ another female deity residing in the womb realm!!! she’s one of the handful of gods carried over from indian mythology into buddhism known for protection and blessings.

combining these together, kuukou’s sukajan likely symbolises protection from suffering and misfortunes, as we’ve seen him do a handful of times in canon!!!!

#vee queued to fill the void #*laughing crying screaming* diving off the deep end into buddhism to understand just HOW complex kuukou is is a lot of fun!!!!!!!!#but i feel insane whenever i do lol y’all i dug deep for this one and only paraphrased it 😭😭😭😭#the ‘b’ character can also represent ‘daikokuten’ a deity of fortune and wealth #it was carried over from the god of destruction shiva and tho kuukou is a force to be reckoned with certainly lol #i went with the other deity kujaku myoo because of where she resides and what she represents fits kuukou better #the kujaku in this deity is not to be confused with kuujaku posse lmao (tho if you wanna talk about voids and buddhism i can—)#ah and wisdom kings are in a sense off shoots of buddhas!!!!#they’re known for their fierceness and wrath towards impurities that cause suffering #and if hypstage ever wants to let sasara and kuukou in on the king of kings glory that should also be theirs #i have been SAYING kuukou would declare himself a wisdom king!!!!!!!#c: kuukou👑

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menaceborn · 1 year

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brutus by the buttress is so ayru-core

#i just. i feel like so much of maul's life is marked by having completely conflicting or contradictory feelings towards people or things #like. he's expected to worship sidious and follow his every command but he's also expected and encouraged to hate him #he's supposed to stay in line and be a servant but as per sith tradition he's also supposed to one day betray and murder his master #and no matter how much he hates sidious or how much self awareness he has about what was done to him he can never truly let go of the pride #he has regarding being sith and sidious is the one who opened that door for him. who (in ayru's mind) elevated him #and in some ways a lot of this carries over to anakin/vader too tbh #ayru sees him as his brother (and in many ways they are brothers) and feels an immense amount of guilt that he didn't intervene when sheev #was grooming anakin BUT AT THE SAME TIME he's jealous of anakin both because of the position he rises to within the empire but also because #of the attention he's given by sheev (which is not a thing you Should envy but it's an unfortunate result of the abuse ayru suffered)#i don't think ayru could ever have a healthy (brotherly) relationship with anakin/vader because he couldn't balance the line between #wanting to set him free from palpatine and wanting to murder him to retake his seat next to their father‚ teacher‚ abuser and master.#(not saying he Could murder anakin‚ just speaking to his wants and ambitions etc.)#ayru wants a quiet life. he wants to sit in his corner of the galaxy with his band of brothers but he also wants glory and for the empire #to chant his name #he needs therapy lol

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piktusid · 1 year

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☮️☮️☮️

I drew that one at the beginning. I'm scared to say, but I'm from ru and I'm against all wars and violence. I'm not allowed to say it out loud in my country, but I am allowed to say it here. Glory to Ukraine, I love u

#art #cartoon #digital art #digital drawing #cute #I hate wars #glory to ukraine #I love that country and my friends from here #They suffering #Do as much as you can to help #Please #P1k2s1d artz

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invictarre-archive · 1 year

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time to re-paste my tags and tag everything I’ve been getting lazy with :))))))))

can’t wait for these to get deleted !!!!!!!!!!

#dear queen of hearts; let me grow you red roses so you can learn how to be kind | out of character #hard and fast shines the grin that we flash; but there's a vulnerable stripe or two on me | musings #you can learn a lot of things from the flowers; for especially in the month of June | inbox memes #let us together see how high we can fly before the sun melts the wax in our wings | dash commentary #pull the sword from the stone and start forging your own legendary stories | headcanons #I've found fame to be a fickle food; lying delicately across an ever shifting plate | aesthetics #all the parts combine to one with all of us around the sun; everything will fall away; make order from the disarray | worldbuilding #I can make it easy; I can take the lead. if you think they're looking at you; they're looking at me | answered ask #owo ??? what's this ????? *notices your post* | saved #there's no such thing as time to kill or time to throw away | dash games #every fight has its costs that we've had to pay; all won by the strength of the party we've made | muse relevant imagery #under a canopy of stars where thought and truth divorce; in that latticework of dreams we are guiltless | dani x leon #I think we deserve a soft epilogue my love; we are good people and we've both suffered enough | v: galar's golden boy #up where the mountains meet the heavens above; out where the lightning splits the sea | v: vientown ranger #through the rain and the storm and the flood I can feel their approach like a fire in my blood | v: treasure town trio #edge of glory; write your story; seize the moment with no regrets | v: my hero academia #and the cat's in the cradle with the silver spoon; little boy blue and the man in the moon | npcs: arthur brandt-muriell #and it feels like flying out of fool's paradise; I'll leave them in their cages and rise to shining heights | v: a new chapter #we can outshine the sun; we need only believe that two stars shine brighter than one | v: childhood

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thresholdbb · 8 months

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Me: You know, the most ridiculous thing about the Klingon real estate business is that Gowron, the guy on the card, gets assassinated

My sister with a real-estate adjacent job: Yeah, that’s the most ridiculous thing…

#ds9 #gowron #glory to you and your house #it’s an actual real estate office in Vegas licensed and everything #listen I was trying not to bring up Trek at dinner but they asked what I was watching like the answer has changed #I am just very unfortunately unhinged #swear to god I have a master’s degree I am just suffering from Star Trek brain rot don’t mind me #sonic shower thoughts

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saetoru · 7 months

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Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

#i wasn’t gonna tag this buuuuuuuut….its kinda long so #i was like eh why not #but i’m not like tagging every tag just the main few #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #bully! gojo tag

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yeslordmyking · 1 year

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Good people will still go to Hell without baptism. Being good means nothing. Being SAVED, obeying God, and living holy gets you to Heaven.

It is HEART👏🏽BREAK👏🏽ING to see good people and know there's really nothing good in them because they're without God. What's the point of seeing good in anyone if they're still going to Hell?

Please... Get baptized.

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mythology-void · 3 months

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okay so I was doing a Research™️ about ancient Greek etymology as one does and I found some Things that made me want to Violently Claw My Arms Off please allow me to force feed you my discoveries

So there are 2 words for "not" in ancient Greek, depending on the context: ou and mē. Having introduced himself in the Cyclops episode as " ou tis", or No-man, he then stabs Polyphemus in the eye. When Polyphemus' brothers come to check on him, they say this:

"... surely no man [mē tis] is carrying off your sheep? Surely no man [mē tis] is trying to kill you either by fraud or by force?"

Right after this, after the other cyclopes ditch Polyphemus, Odysseus's inner monologue goes something like this:

"Then they went away, and I laughed inwardly at the success of my clever strategem [metis]." (pronounced mEH-Tis)

Now, there's a difference between mē tis and metis. [mē tis] (pronounced mEH-Tis with a space between the syllables) is the literal translation for "no man". Metis is a word for extreme intelligence/cunning, which is something Odysseus is famous for.

Now, there are several examples of abuse of metis/intelligence in the Odyssey, but I think the juxtaposition between [mē tis], or the concept of anonymity, and metis, or extreme intelligence, is REALLY interesting. Odysseus's adoption of the title "No-man" was characteristic of metis--it was a really smart move that simultaneously hid him from the cyclops and avoided any future consequences. It was a highly effective strategy all wrapped up in a nest little package with a bow on it.

But when he revealed himself as Odysseus of Ithaca, effectively throwing off No-man (anonymity and [mē tis]), that was characterized as idiocy--he's essentially doxxed himself, and now he's doing to (spoiler alert) get tossed around the Mediterranean by Poseidon for the next 10 years.

This is really interesting because it lets you see the parallels/codependency between metis(intelligence) and humility. When Odysseus refused to allow himself to go unnoticed (hubris) he suffered for it. BUT when he declined instant glory/satisfaction (kleos) in order to achieve the long term goal of survival, he was rewarded with Athena's favor (pay attention. This part is important).

And this situation repeats itself MULTIPLE TIMES in the Odyssey--the EXACT SAME THING happens near the end of the book, with the suitors. When. Odysseus is dressed as a beggar and the suitors/Antinious are abusing him, he ACTIVELY CHOOSES not to react--he doesn't stand up and rip off his disguise and start hollering "TIS I, ODYSSEUS OF ITHACA! FEAR MY WRATH"

No. He sits there patiently and waits. He plans and schemes and quietly orchestrates their downfall without alerting them of it. Why? Because he learned his lesson the first time this happened. He buried his rage and adopted what was, according to Grace LA Franz, a more feminine form of metis, weaving a web of destruction for his enemies that ultimately resulted in their total annihilation (see Weaving a Way to Nostos: Odysseus and Feminine Metis in the Odyssey by Grace LaFranz). His patience allowed him to win the whole prize--no questions asked, no 10-year-long-business-trip strings attached--just the sweetness of a full victory. And he is, once again, rewarded with Athena's favor--both in the battle with the suitors and in the aftermath (cleanup/reuniting with Penelope).

This really reinforces the idea in the Odyssey that Odysseus's defining characteristic is not just his intelligence--it's his ability to learn from his mistakes. He used what he learned at the Lotus Eaters Island against Polyphemus--the Lotus Eaters drugged his men, so he drugged Polyphemus. He used what he learned from Circe and Polyphemus against the suitors--Circe used false sweetness and honeyed words to lure his men into a trap, so that's exactly what he did to the suitors. His hubris on Polyphemus' island cost his whole crew their lives, so he intentionally left well enough alone until the right time. He didn't just learn from his failures--he turned them into BATTLE STRATEGY.

i don't care what anyone says that is completely totally and objectively awesome

#Odysseus is a certified baddie 112% of the time #he's literally the coolest you can't convince me otherwise #there's a reason that literally everyone has a crush on him #even the lesbians #its the wordplay. his words #read me a poem in iambic pentameter you bloody stinky man #literally everyone: his sad wet vibes and dark undereye circles have captivated me entirely #odysseus #the odyssey #tagamemnon #odysseus x penelope #telemachus #epic the musical #the cyclops saga #odysseus of ithaca #poseidon #etymology #ancient greece #ancient history

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